


Temptation is a Cruel Mistress

by Naerya



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Arya is very pretty, Aunt/Nephew Incest, Book Based, Breastfeeding, Cheating, Consensual Non-Consent, Conspiracy, Dead Rhaegar Targaryen, Don't Like Don't Read, Endgame Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, F/F, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Incest, Infidelity, Jealous Jon Snow, Jealousy, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, King Aegon, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Queen Daenerys, R Plus L Equals J, Smut, jealous Daenerys, titty sucking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-08-19 06:25:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16529165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naerya/pseuds/Naerya
Summary: The return of the Bastard Prince to King's Landing tests the marriage of the newly coronated King and Queen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I took some of the criticism to heart and decided to repost this with a few additions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of the artwork is mine. 
> 
> Pictures can be found here: 
> 
> https://www.deviantart.com/zombiesandwich/art/Daenerys-Targaryen-Study-With-Videos-404170798  
> https://www.deviantart.com/naomimakesart/art/Daemon-714345898  
> https://www.deviantart.com/hardcoremiike/art/Jon-Snow-341226662

 

 

**Daenerys Targaryen**

Daenerys awoke to the gentle feel of her husband’s hand gliding across her bare hip and abdomen to grip her right breast. Accompanying his gentle kneading of her soft flesh was his lips on the column of her throat and the feel of his masculine form flush against her back. They were encased in a cocoon of satin sheets and thick furs. Still, Daenerys wore thick woolen socks to combat the chill and by the orange light that flickered through her eyelids, the braziers still burned.

“Wake up my queen.” He whispered softly.

She grumbled and buried her face deeper into the soft pillow. Her husband was not a man to be denied and his long fingers played across her skin. First, he played with her nipple with a ghost of a touch until it erected then he pushed her long silver hair to the side and kissed his way down her spine. Daenerys shifted further onto her stomach in a halfhearted attempt to put a halt to his seduction. Her eyes squeezed shut but her body betrayed her. As his lips found the small of her back, she arched her spine and one leg bent at the knee while the other remained straight. Briefly, her husband kneaded her bum with his skilled hands. She stifled a groan when his hands moved further south. Her husband’s chuckle was knowing.

His hands massaged her thighs, working at the knots in the muscle’s that came with the long hours spent in Silver’s saddle.  Annarra had done her best to alleviate the discomfort but the handmaiden did not have the strength to work out the deepest knots. His lips followed and then soon her husband was kissing her everywhere between her bum and her knees. When he gripped a cheek and sank his teeth into the skin, Daenerys rolled over scandalized. “Ow!” She protested. Squinting, against the dim glow of the fireplace, Daenerys took in the sight of her husband.

His silver hair was near as long as hers. Normally it was braided in a long tail that reached the mid of his back but now it was a silver-gold lion’s mane. He was nude before her. His abs and shoulders flexed under the weight of her appreciative gaze and even his arousal did a dance.

“Is there something that you want?” Daenerys asked. Sleep made her tone and voice rougher than she intended and her half-opened eyes likely looked like a glare. Still, Aegon’s indigo eyes were filled with mirth.

“Just you.” He said lamely. She did not have the energy to chuckle. “I imagine the court will want the sight of their new queen.”

“They have seen me before,” Daenerys said. By now the fogginess of sleep was beginning to clear from her mind and the desire for more rest replaced by a reminder of all the responsibilities of her daily life.

“They need to get used to the notion of you as their queen. The first few months are hardly the time that we should slack in our duties.” Aegon reminded and then he added, “Jon is expected today as well. By midday at the earliest.”

“Jon?” She hoped her voice did not betray the extent of her excitement nor her anger. “After months of silence, he has decided to come pay his respects?” _You and Rhaegar may have had their disagreements, but he still was your father Jon._

Aegon shook his head. “Jon was beyond the wall with his uncle when it happened. He took a ship from Eastwatch as soon he learned the news.”

Eastwatch by the sea was near thousand miles away, if Jon were set to arrive tomorrow then Aegon had to have known of his impending arrival for weeks. “Why are you just telling me this now?”

“There was enough for you to worry about. Organizing father’s funeral, entertaining and reassuring the court… I did not want to trouble you.” There was merit to Aegon’s words. When a king such as Rhaegar died so suddenly no one was truly prepared. Aegon had been his father’s hand since he had come of age and Daenerys inherited the duties of a consort after Elia’s death. Still, everyone expected Rhaegar to rule for another decade or more. His decline in health was as swift as it was unexpected. Daenerys knew by the shift in Aegon’s gaze that his words were not the whole truth.

“You did not want to think about him.” She surmised. _Or for me to think of him._ That she did not say.

“Can you blame me?” Aegon asked.

“He is your brother.” _My nephew._

“Half-brother,” Aegon whispered. He leaned in and captured her lips before she could respond. Daenerys wrapped her legs around him to pull him closer. His tongue glided past her lips and played with her own.

“Still family.” Daenerys breathed. Her breath hitched when Aegon returned his attention to her neck.

“That is the danger with our family.” Aegon said between kisses. His hand glided down her abdomen to find her nub hidden in the soft fur of silver curls. She gasped when his finger brushed against it. “Boundaries mean nothing to us. Oaths and words promised often fall away to ambition. Desire overrules common sense. Normal men run from fire, we seek to dominate it.”

“Gentle.” She pleaded. Aegon dipped his fingers into her core and then spread her wetness over her nether lips. When he found her nub again, Daenerys bit his shoulder. She could feel her climax start its rise in her toes.

“Do you understand why I am wary of him?”

“It has been years since we have last seen each other.” She protested. The day Jon and Ser Oswell had boarded a ship bound for the north was a memory as clear as it ever had been. King's Landing had been in the height of summer. The heat so sweltering that Daenerys had taken to wearing the dresses Princess Arianne had gifted her. Both her nephews could hardly take their eyes off of her and then they glared at one another when they noticed the target of the other’s attention.

“And you have only grown more beautiful as a result.” His head dipped to suck on her breast. She hissed when he teased her nipple between his teeth. “Smarter, a bigger heart. Bigger breasts as well.” He kissed along her side and then her flat belly. “Everything a queen and a mother should be.”

Daenerys’ tugged on his silver locks and pulled him, so she could gaze into his eyes. “Do not forget that I married you. I have had _your_ children. I am your queen-“ Her words were swallowed by a gasp as his length slid into her. Her cunt clenched greedily, and her heels found his buttocks to pull him deeper inside.

Aegon set a quick pace. In his jealousy, he gathered her hands and held them above her head with one of his own while the other pressed her thigh to her chest. Nearly folded in half all Daenerys could do was goad her husband into giving her his best.

“Show me how much you want me.” She whispered. Her eyes flashed, and she wet her lips. Aegon seemed transfixed by the motion of her tongue. “Claim me.” She tightened her muscles around his turgid length and was delighted by the way he faltered.

Aegon released her wrists. “Play with yourself.” He ordered.

“Are you close?” Daenerys smiled. Her eyes shut briefly as her fingers eased over her clit. It would not take much to drive her over the edge. Aegon nodded, his face the picture of concentration but his pace did not slow. “Cum for me. We can do it at the same time.”

“Dany.” He gasped. She whined and then a tingle traveled from her clenched toes to her shaking thighs to her weeping cunt.  She cried out, vaguely aware of the sudden pulsating swell of Aegon’s cock. The rush of warmth and the weight of his body on hers triggered powerful aftershocks that briefly altered her concept of time and space.

After they had cuddled and took the time to clean themselves, Daenerys’ handmaidens entered the king’s chambers. Annarra dressed her in an elaborate dress of red and black velvet with fur lined shoulders that left her neck exposed. A ruby encased in onyx hung from a silver chain and Jocelyn braided Daenerys’ hair into an elaborate crown of silver that fell in a silken wave across one shoulder. Her feet were encased in heeled slippers that added two inches into her height. Enough so that Daenerys’ eyes were near level with Aegon’s shoulder.

Her husband did a double take when he saw her. “What is the occasion?”

“A queen needs to make a good impression. My husband failed to tell me that my nephew does not travel alone.” Her handmaidens had informed Daenerys that Aegon had set aside the entire Maidenvault, apparently at Jon’s request.

Aegon smiled sheepishly. “Ah, I forgot to mention that as well.  Jon brings with him representatives from the lands beyond the wall.”

Daenerys blinked in surprise. “Wildlings here in King’s Landing?” That was certainly unprecedented. To the best of her knowledge, no wilding had stepped foot any further south than the lands controlled by the Starks. “How many does he bring?”

“Over one hundred. To what reason why I do not know. His letter said that he was in conversation with father but did not spare any details as to the specifics.”

Daenerys reached up to adjust the collar of Aegon’s tunic. He wore a smart pair of black trousers with polished boots and a satin tunic the color plum. His silver hair had been regulated to its normal braid. “And that troubles you?”

He shrugged. “There were few things father did not share with me, with us. Jon’s time in the north was one of them. I could tell that any news weighed heavily upon them.”

What Jon had been occupied with was mostly a mystery to Dany as well. Her nephew had left King’s Landing at thirteen and by fifteen had somehow joined with his uncle in rangings far north of the wall. For a time both she and Aegon had thought Jon joined the Night’s Watch but apparently, that was not the case.

“Have you told the children?” Daenerys asked.

“No, they could not keep it a secret.”

Daenerys frowned. “I still wish you told me. I could have helped prepare.”

“The preparations are done Daenerys. Relax, and focus on entertaining our guests.”

Half the day passed before news came from the port of the sighting of Jon’s ships. The throne room was already assembled from this morning’s court proceedings and an excited murmur sounded amongst the walls. Aegon sat straight-backed in the throne of swords while Daenerys sat below in the consort’s chair. Three-year-old Aemon shifted in her lap while his elder sister, Adara, played with the ends of Dany’s hair.

Murmuring increased as the beat of horses’ hooves could be heard through the great doors of the throne room. _Why are they so loud?_ Daenerys wondered. Her answer came moments after the doors opened.

Excited gasps sounded throughout the cavernous hall. Daenerys’ eyes widened as well and Adara made an excited noise from the back of her throat. “Look, mama, a wolf!”

Indeed, there was a wolf. One with a coat as white and as pure as freshly fallen snow and blood red eyes. He was larger than a wolf had any right to be. Its head was wide, long and massive with a lean body that was as tall as a pony. Beside the wolf walked a man, _Jon,_ he was unmistakable in his party fur-clad, bearded men and rough looking women. Then her eyes turned to the colossal shapes behind him. There were five of them. The shortest was at least twelve feet tall, the tallest nearing fourteen. A thick covering of shaggy fur encased their entire bodies, it grows thicker south of their waist. Their arms were longer than their legs, their chest’s sloping, and their squished faces held two beady black eyes. Wildlings and giants stared suspiciously at their surroundings. The latter sniffed as much as they looked.

Daenerys stared at their obvious leader. Despite his bastard status, Jon looked very much a prince. Perhaps not a Targaryen prince, his hair was a dark brown instead of silver and his eyes the blackest of greys but the grace in which he walked was something he inherited from his father. He wore scuffed boots, dark breeches and leathers stained from salt. An elegant blade was strapped to his waist, the flash of a ruby encased in its hilt drew her eye. Jon looked older than she remembered, a scar tugged at the corner of his eye accompanied by a long one on his cheek. High cheekbones sat on his long face and his expression was unreadable. On his left shoulder, a raven sat, staring back at her with eyes that looked eerily intelligent.

“Hello brother.” Aegon called from his throne. The words drew Daenerys’ eyes to her husband. If he was impressed by the uniqueness of Jon’s party his face did not show it.

“Hello Aegon.” Jon returned. “King Aegon I suppose.” His gaze turned to Daenerys. “And his queen.” Their eyes locked and held even as Jon knelt. His raven squawked in protest a sound that was shared by Jon’s companions. “If you will excuse my friends, the Freefolk are not in the habitat of kneeling.” He raised his voice. “But I assured them that if they submit to the laws of the realm then they will find a better life in the south. Kneeling to the rightful king of the realm is part of that promise.” He repeated his words in a strange, gravel-like language that the giants seemed to understand. The hesitation and reluctance of the Freefolk was evident but one by one they knelt.

Aegon stood and descended the steps of the throne. Jon stood and met him. Side by side the brothers could not look so different… and so similar. One light, one dark. One trueborn and one baseborn. One born from duty and the other from love. Rhaegar’s blood ran through both of their veins. The blood of the dragon.

Daenerys tensed and hoped the Kingsguard could move fast enough to separate the two. Instead, Aegon extended a hand and Jon shook it. “This was father’s plan?”

“It would have been,” Jon answered. “This winter has been the harshest in recent memory and if their moonsingers can be believed it will only get worse. The last King Beyond the Wall promised them a better future if they helped him conquer it.”

“What happened to him?”

“I killed him.” Jon’s words were a statement said without boast.

Aegon’s eyes flickered over Jon’s form. They were only an inch or two apart in height with the difference favoring Aegon. “With that sword?”

A smile touched Jon’s lips. “Do you recognize it?”

Aegon tilted his head. “Should I?”

Jon stepped back and pulled the blade from its sheath. The steel was dark with ripples akin to smoke. It was a slender longsword with a deep fuller and a flame-shaped pommel and cross-guard the color of crimson gold. “Dark Sister.”

Daenerys stood and guided her children over to their father. Adara took Aegon’s hand while Aemon peered up at Jon from behind Daenerys’ skirts. “Say hello to your uncle,” Daenerys said. Shyness took them both.

Jon smiled in return. “I look a bit scary don’t I.” He knelt so that he was level with the children’s faces. Adara nodded. “Does Ghost?” He pointed to his wolf. Adara shook her head. “Would you like to pet him?” Adara nodded again. “Can she?” Jon asked. This time his grey eyes were focused on Daenerys. She bit her lip and nodded.

The direwolf padded over in steps that made no sound. Up close he looked even more massive. Yet Adara took Jon’s hand and then laughed in delight as the wolf bent so she could stroke his head and behind his ears. “His name is Ghost. What’s your name?”

“Adara.” The girl answered shyly but Daenerys could tell that she was rapidly warming to her uncle.

“I’m Aemon!” Her little boy shouted from behind her skirts. That drew a chuckle from the three adults and then the rest of the court.

“Well hello, Aemon. Would you like to pet Ghost as well?” Aemon looked to his mother and father for permission. Daenerys nodded as did Aegon.

“Now be gentle. Never tug on a direwolf’s ears. They are quite sensitive…” Jon spoke to the children a gentle tone that warmed Daenerys’ heart. She squeezed Aegon’s hand. Perhaps the years had granted them all some maturity. _Rhaegar would want his sons to work together. Not to be at odds with one another._

“Our children should have met their uncle sooner.” Daenerys said playfully. Jon’s returning smile was a bit rueful.

“My apologies my queen. The situation in the North was too delicate for me to leave until now and word does travel slowly. But there is someone I would like for you to meet. Two someones actually.” Jon turned and the wildlings… Freefolk parted for two fur-clad figures. Daenerys did not know she did not see the woman at first. The furs and cloak she wore were pure white. On her breast was an iron pendant of their house’s three-headed dragon. A long blonde braid spilled from her hood. She had high cheekbones and full, pink lips. Two grey-blue eyes stared into Daenerys’ own. _She is beautiful._ The boy whose hand she held was of an age with Adara. With one look Daenerys’ knew he was Jon’s son. His blonde hair was darker than his mother’s honey blonde. One eye was a grey-blue, the other an indigo so dark it was nearly black. He had his father’s face and walked with a prince’s confidence.

Jon’s arm wrapped around the woman’s slim waist. He patted his son’s hair. “This is Lady Val, and our son, Ivar.” The crow on Jon’s shoulder repeated the word.

“Ivar! Ivar! Ivar!” It cocked its head, flapped its wings and landed next to Jon’s son. The boy laughed and fed the bird kernels of corn he hid in his pocket.

“Word never came that you married brother, much less had a child,” Aegon said, his tone conveyed the surprise that Daenerys felt. A small part of her heart wrenched.

Jon had the courtesy to look abashed. “I-“

“The fault lies with me, Your Grace. I made the mistake of believing that your brother knew the customs of our people. This one didn’t know we were married the first night I stole him.” Val’s voice was a purr and her words brought a round of knowing laughter from her Freefolk brethren.

“Stole him?” Daenerys asked, confused.

Jon interrupted his _woman_ before she could speak. “It is not a story that children should here.”

Ivar turned to peer up at his father. “I’ve heard it, father. Mother found you bleeding in the woods and nursed you back to health then she-“ Jon’s hand clamped upon his son’s mouth.

“That is basically the essence of the tale,” Jon said.

Ever inquisitive, Adara said, “I want to hear the rest of the story.”

Daenerys hid her frown. “Perhaps another time.”

Aegon took her hand in his own. “Yes, we have much to discuss.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

****

**Daenerys Targaryen**

“You want to settle how many wildlings in the south?!” Aegon exclaimed. She, Aegon, Jon, and his wife had moved to Aegon’s solar in Maegor’s holdfast after they had ‘settled’ the wildlings in their apartments in the Maidenvault. That had been an experience in itself. They were raider chiefs, matriarchs, moonsingers and warlords unused to the extravagances in the south. Before the doors to their chambers had even closed, Daenerys had seen tapestries pulled from walls, finery and utensils pocketed, silken beds shredded and looks of astonishment at the sight of even the simplest of details. Aegon had grumbled wordlessly and their Kingsguard’s hands were never far from the hilts of their swords. Jon had merely shrugged.

“Near fifty thousand,” Jon replied. Despite his brother’s exclamation, Jon’s face remained a placid mask. The four of them sat around a round oaken table in Aegon’s solar. Daenerys was between the two brothers while Val sat to Jon’s right and before them was a detailed map of the Riverlands.

“Fifty thousand…” Aegon muttered. His brow furrowed, and his crown shifted. Aegon removed his iron and ruby crown in annoyance and set it on the table. “And just how many does your uncle plan to settle?”

This time Jon’s face betrayed a wince. “Less than that.” He answered.

“Half?” Aegon questioned. Jon shook his head. “Twenty thousand?”

“Fifteen thousand,” Jon replied.

“So, your uncle expects me to find and house three times more men than he is willing to take. Have the Lords of Winterfell always been so niggardly?” Aegon questioned. Daenerys could see her husband’s blood was a boil, so she took the time to pour everyone in the room a glass of Dornish Red. Jon’s fingers brushed against hers when she handed him his glass and he took a moment to thank her before redirecting his attention to his brother. Val flashed her a pretty smile, a surprisingly full set of white teeth.

Daenerys looked for a fault in the woman and to her dismay, she could not find one. If she had not known any better, then she would have reckoned that Jon had married the daughter of some northern lord. Even in her furs, the woman looked like she belonged at court. Honey-blonde with high cheekbones and sharp blue-grey eyes, Val was a true beauty.

“Come summer more than half the Freefolk are likely to move North. Lord Eddard has assured that there will be lands available for them on Stony Shore and Sea Dragon Point.”

The words hardly satisfied Aegon. “It seems your uncle is intent on these people becoming his vassals, perhaps he should do more to help them.”

Jon’s eyes narrowed, and his fist clenched. “Do not play a fool. You know that a harvest in winter is far more difficult in the south and impossible anywhere north of the Neck. If my uncle were to try and settle that many people, this early in the season then they all would starve.”

“Winterfell has supplies I am sure.  Father greatly reduced their taxes and the added incomes should be enough to support-“

Jon interrupted. “The North is still a vassal state to the Iron Throne, a throne to which you now sit meaning that you have an obligation to defend them when the need arises. Now if we settle these people peacefully then there is no need for war.”

“The North has been nine-tenths ready for war for over twenty years. Father’s appeasement of Winterfell went too far, do not expect me to make the same mistakes. Here the pattern repeats, they ask for too much and give too little and we wait for them to act at the slightest provocation.”

“Set aside the politics and your pride for a moment and look at the bigger picture.” Jon glared.

Aegon rose to his feet. “Set aside the politics? I am king, politics are what I live and breathe. As I see it, an impending wildling invasion remains an imminent threat to the North and the North alone. Now I am not a cruel man and take no pleasure in condemning thousands to die needlessly but you cannot expect any ruler with any measure of competency to agree to these terms. These wildlings will need to be fed, housed and cared for all until they become self-sufficient. An enormous expense that the crown will bear the brunt of. What does your uncle offer for our help?” Jon was silent. “Nothing then. I do not know why I expected more from you.”

“More from the bastard?” Jon said with venom.

Aegon stared unflinchingly. “I did not say those words.”

“But you were thinking them.” Those grey eyes grew hard.

Daenerys interrupted before their disagreement could escalate. “Enough you two.” She laid a gentle hand on Aegon’s arm and bid him to return to his seat. It seemed time and age could not quell the friction between the brothers. “Your father would expect the both of you to find a way to work together not stoop to petty squabbles.” She alternated between both their gazes. Aegon’s indigo eyes held the familiar fire that she simultaneously loved and at times found irritable. Jon’s grey eyes possessed a chill that was no less intense.

Val laid a hand in Jon’s lap. “The King is correct.” She squeezed Jon’s thigh before he could offer a retort. “The Freefolk cannot expect to settle new lands without offering anything in return. We may not have the gold of you southerners, but we do have our wealth. And none of our people expect- what is the word… charity. Under the Weeper, we were prepared to fight and die if need be for our future. I don’t see why any would object if parting with our possessions means that we can keep our lives.”

Aegon’s lips pursed. Wordlessly Daenerys knew that her husband was skeptical of the extent of the wildling’s wealth. _What could these simple people offer to appease a king and more importantly his fractious lords? Still, it is a meaningful gesture._ “Thank you, Lady Val.”

“Just Val, please. I am not sure why you kneelers insist on so many titles.”

_Kneelers._ Daenerys’ eyes narrowed. Jon’s reply was full of humor. “Tell that to Tormund.” Val grinned and shook her head. “Tormund is a special case.” She admitted.

“Who is this Tormund?” Daenerys asked. “Is he among the folk in the Maidenvault?”

“If Tormund were here you would know. Tormund Giant’s Bane or Giantsbabe depending upon who you would ask. The Tall-Talker, the Hornblower, Husband to Bears, you get the point. But no, he is among the leaders that we left behind to ensure the peace remains in our absence.” Val spoke.

“The peace.” Aegon seemed to test the words. “I imagine not all the Freefolk are as elegant as your wife here. You want to put thousands of them here in the south, but can you guarantee the peace? I will not pretend to be ignorant of your people’s reputation.”

Jon’s right hand flexed. Daenerys realized it was still gloved despite the heat emanating from the solar’s brazier. “The Freefolk are a varied people, one tribe can be as different as Northman and a Dornishman. They have fierce fighters, raiders, men who have committed acts that have surely earned themselves a noose around their neck but there are also farmers, sheepherders, midwives, mothers, fathers and most of all children. The latter outweighs the former by a wide margin.”

Aegon smiled but it was far from friendly. “You did not answer my question little brother; can I expect your people not to pillage and rape or is that in embedded in their very nature?”

“If you were to give the order to your smallfolk to not steal, not rape, not kill or lay with others who were not their husband or wife how many would follow your decree? And for those that violated it would you pin the blame on the entirety of the smallfolk or just those individuals?”

“He does have a point Aegon,” Daenerys said. She took a cue from Jon’s wildling woman and squeezed her husband’s thigh. “We can’t judge the reputation of an entire people on the actions of a few.”

“Tell that to the lords of the lands that they will settle, I am sure they will see it the same way.” He said dryly.

Daenerys stared at him intently. She knew her husband was not immune to the call of charity. He frequently accompanied her in her visits to the orphanages and to the ire of their lords, they had even restored a few of the reforms Aegon V had championed intended to give the smallfolk greater protection. Not all of them, neither she nor Aegon wanted to risk a war but it was enough to reaffirm to Daenerys that her husband cared about those considered beneath them. Enough to risk the displeasure of the ever-vocal nobility. _Why is he so resistant now? Does Jon’s return unsettle him so much?_ Even when they were small, Aegon and Jon had ever been rivals. With the history of their father’s infidelity, their mothers, the rebellion and most of their families, it was a wonder that the two had not turned to bloodshed to end their feud. Before, Daenerys had often been the source of their disputes and the voice of reason that ended them. _Perhaps I can be the mediator again._ She cleared her throat. “Jon, you said many of these men are formidable warriors?”

She felt something stir in her chest when Jon’s grey eyes affixed to her form. Unconsciously she sat straighter and did not fail to notice the way his eyes followed her motion. “Aye.” He answered.

“And I imagine many would be willing to defend the king’s lands in exchange for lands of their own in the south. How many of the Freefolk would you say would be willing to kill their new king’s enemies?” Even two decades after the usurper’s failed rebellion there were disloyal factions that remained in the Stormlands who were not satisfied with their new Connington overlords, the Riverlands who disputed House Darry’s replacement of House Tully and the Iron Islands could never truly be trusted if history was any indication. Though the greatest threat remained within their own house. Viserys’ marriage to Cersei Lannister certainly had not been done with Rhaegar’s consent. With the old king dead, she and Aegon had considered the possibility of Viserys acting with a new-found boldness.

Jon seemed surprised. “You want to turn the Freefolk into an army?”

Daenerys could sense his hesitation. “With luck, they will never need to take up their swords but each time there is a regime change there are many who would look for weakness. We must show them that there is none. Surely you can understand that.”

Her attention was focused on Jon, but it was Val who answered. “The Freefolk take their oaths seriously. If the king were to promise their families protection, then there are many who would take up swords for the king. I have no doubt.”

“The swords will need to be provided if you want them to be effective. They are fierce fighters but most only have iron or bronze weapons. Any steel they possess is from what they liberated from the Night’s Watch. If you want them to be effective in any pitched battle, then they will need training and I suggest training commanders from their own people. The Freefolk do not take to commands easily and I doubt a southern commander will easily earn their respect.” Jon answered dryly.

Val stroked her husband’s arm. “You would make a poor trader.” She looked to Aegon and Daenerys. “What he says is true. The Freefolk will only follow strength and those that they are familiar with.”  

Aegon threaded his fingers. “Your people know nothing of me, why should they follow my word?” His gaze was piercing. Yet Val did not flinch.

“You share blood with this one.” She touched Jon’s chest. “He has proven himself a friend to my people time and time again. And he has vouched for you both.”

Daenerys looked to Aegon. He met her gaze. _Give them a chance._ She told him with her eyes alone. His eyes narrowed at first as if he would refuse and then she touched his knee under the table. Finally, Aegon relented, “Very well. It seems your Freefolk will need a strong lord to keep them in line as well as train and prepare their men should we find a use for them. They will also need lands and farms to feed themselves, and charity until their harvest proves productive.”

 Jon nodded. “Do you have the lord in mind?”

“Lords.” Aegon corrected. “No single place can accept so many people so suddenly though for our partnership to be the most effective then I suppose that means your Freefolk will need to settle close. The Crownlands and the Rivers will be best. However, the principal responsibility of ensuring that your people keep the peace will belong to you and you alone.”

“I am not a lord.” Jon reminded.

Aegon’s response was surprising, even to Daenerys. “You are now.” The king stood and left the chair they shared to go to his desk. From a drawer, he brought a rolled parchment and the royal seal. “Lady Whent has been sickly for years now, has no heirs and only relatives of a distant relation. When she dies, I have no doubt there will be no small number of claimants for Harrenhal and its lands.”

To Daenerys’ surprise, Jon did not look pleased. “Wouldn’t the castle be better suited for one of your loyal lords at court?”

Aegon arched a brow. “Do you plan on betraying me, brother?”

“No,” Jon answered simply.

Aegon smirked. “Then I have nothing to fear. Yes, in truth I could name anyone I wanted to be Lord of Harrenhal. Loyalty to the crown is key, however, strength is also most necessary. In almost every major war, Harrenhal has been a key asset. Especially if one seeks to seize some measure of control over the Riverlands. Rarely has there been a Lord of Harrenhal with the strength to hold his castle and the change of its hands can turn the course of a war. Perhaps the times have changed. The Old King bid his sister Rhaena to hold Harrenhal in the name of House Targaryen, I choose to do the same for you, should you choose to accept it. However, there will be one major caveat. Should you prove successful then I will name your son, Ivar, Lord of Harrenhal and a prince of the realm.”

Val’s eyes widened. “A prince?”

The expression on Jon’s face did not change. “Your lords will not like it. The most vocal will grumble about a bastard being given such a position.”

Aegon turned his head. He pointed to both Jon and Val. “And here I thought you two married?”

“We did.” They both answered.

“Then I see no problem. I am merely giving a boon to my newly met nephew, provided of course that his father meets and better yet exceeds the crown’s expectations.” Aegon sat down next to Daenerys and curled an arm around her shoulder.

“You are the blood of the dragon,” Daenerys stated, her words laced with conviction. “And your son is as well. By right of conquest, we lay claim to all the lands of the Seven Kingdoms, if any should protest then they may need reminding of the lessons of history.”

“Do you accept?” Aegon asked.

“He accepts,” Val answered. Jon smiled and nodded.

Their conversation continued well into the night. First, they discussed the logistics of moving the wildlings. Unless they wanted mass starvations and desertions then a sizable portion of the royal fleet was needed to move the people from the lands beyond the wall to their new lands more than a thousand leagues south. Jon mentioned that having Aegon present to greet and accept oaths from the wildlings would make all the difference. Oathbreaking was a grievous sin across their many cultures.  

Daenerys wanted to go as well but both Jon and Aegon were against it. Storms on the Narrow Sea were fiercest in the winter season and the journey itself would take several weeks, leaving their young children alone in the capital. Once Val elected to stay in the south with Ivar then the decision was decided for her. _I suppose I must get to know her eventually._

“Where is Rhaenys?” Jon asked. Gone was the tense atmosphere from the start of their meeting. The distinct spice of Dornish wine brought a certain ease to their conversation that was lacking before. Val’s cheeks were flushed, and she leaned against her husband who wrapped an arm around her slim waist. The woman had mirrored Daenerys and had removed her boots so that her legs were curled beneath her.

“In Essos, with Ser Arys and one of her playthings. She returned from Dorne for Rhaegar’s funeral but did not linger long after.” Daenerys answered.

Jon looked to Aegon. “I am surprised you didn’t force her to stay and marry.”

Aegon shrugged. Daenerys could tell her husband was under the effects of his wine as his hands began to stray from her hip up to her abdomen. She caught his hand before it could move further. “Then she would marry Darkstar or worse. I don’t know what she sees in him.”

“He’s pretty.” Daenerys offered.

Aegon snorted. Jon shared his sentiment. “That cannot be the only reason.”

Daenerys smirked. “Do you want the other reasons?” She asked her nephews.

“Because my sweet sister has poor taste in men. So as long as she remains safe and out of trouble then she is free to do whatever she likes.” Aegon answered. He squeezed her side before she could reply.

“I wanted to meet her.” Val pouted. Dany did not fail to notice that the woman’s hand rested much higher on Jon’s thigh than before and Val’s fingers were not still on his leg either. They moved in ever-widening circles. “Jon has told me many stories about his life here in the south. It would be nice to put faces to the names.”

Aegon grinned. “Do we meet your expectations? I am sure Jon has sold us short, me in particular.”

Val returned the smile, and, at that moment, Daenerys could understand why Jon had married her. In many ways, Val reminded her of Rhaenys. Both were seductive with little effort needed. “Well, at least a bit. I didn’t expect you both to be so pretty. Especially the queen. Jon did say you were a looker, but I see that words simply failed him. If you were born in the true north, I guarantee that wars would be fought over you.” Her pretty grey-blue eyes had a playful look to them. “Hell, I’d steal you myself if I wasn’t tied to this one.”

Daenerys was speechless. Her face inflamed. Aegon laughed heartedly. “Steal? Who did my brother steal you from?”

“Make no mistake, I stole him,” Val answered. Jon rolled his eyes. She hit his chest, lightly. “Oh, so I suppose I should have left you bleed out in the snow or handed you over to Rattleshirt?”

“Rattleshirt?” Daenerys asked. “That is a queer name.”

“The Lord of Bones. Contrary to what Val says, the Freefolk do enjoy their titles as well. He was a wildling raider who wore bones as armor, rattling wherever he went.” Jon answered.

“Was? Did you kill him as well?” Daenerys inquired. She knew little of Jon’s time in the North and that troubled her. Growing up, Jon never held secrets from her for long.

“I killed him,” Val answered. Daenerys’ brow rose. “Rattleshirt always thought too highly of himself, I’m sure he never expected his death would come from a woman.”

“Fascinating,” Aegon said.

“Fascinating.” Daenerys mocked when they were alone in his chambers. The conversation would have continued all night if Daenerys had not intervened. Val and Aegon seemed to have formed a quick friendship. To her ire.

“Are you jealous?” Aegon asked as he stripped his shirt. Their chambers were kept warm from the fire that burned in their brazier. Lavender filled the room with its sweet scent.

“No,” Daenerys answered. She stood at her vanity and slid the rings from her finger. Unintentionally she flinched when Aegon’s bare arms enveloped her waist.  

“Really?” He whispered in her ear. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.” She attempted to squirm away from him, but his grip may as well have been iron. Frustrated, she turned to face him instead.

“She seems like a woman you would like.” Aegon’s dark indigo eyes arrested her. His long hair framed his face like a silver-gold lion’s mane. “Fierce.”

Daenerys glared. “And beautiful.” She added.

“Oh, would you like to steal her as well?” Aegon joked. She pinched his side. He persisted, “I think I’d like to see that.”

“I am sure you would,” Daenerys said dryly. She turned to the Myrish mirror to remove her earrings and necklace. Aegon took the opportunity to kiss her neck. She lifted her shoulder to nudge him away. “Harrenhal was a surprise. I wish you would have told me before.”

“Do you disagree?” He asked her.

“No, but I wish you would have told me. Am I your queen or merely your consort?” Aegon flashed her a rueful look.

“It was father’s idea in truth, once Viserys married the Lannisters he knew that something needed to be done to curb any ambition of our uncle that may arise.” She could see the wisdom. Viserys had always been contentious even when Rhaegar was alive. No one in the realm had forgotten one of the last of her father’s declarations before he was removed from power, naming Viserys as his heir while Rhaegar marched against him. The marriage between Viserys and Rhaenys was supposed to wed to tie their lines together but the two displayed so much enmity to one another that the notion had been abandoned before Rhaenys had come of age.

“Father’s idea but he never announced it. He left it up to you to make the decision.” She stared at his reflection and smiled. “I am proud of you, but next time don’t leave me in the dark. You promised that we would rule together.”

“Well, I didn’t presume to plan the feast. I hope you will forgive me for leaving the entirety of that tasks to you.” His smile remained playful.

The mirth was infectious. “I suppose.” She acquiesced.

His hands brushed her sides and then moved to cup her bum. She could feel his hardness dig into her back. “Do you want something?” She goaded.

He brushed her dress away to bare her shoulder and then her breast. Her nipple hardened. “I think I’ll steal you now.” She hissed when he captured it between his fingers.

“Steal me?” The idea sounded both ludicrous and tantalizing.

“Steal you.” He repeated and dropped to his knees, pulling her dress off as he descended. A pool of red fabric gathered at her feet. She hissed when he kissed down her spine and then nibbled an arse cheek.

“You’ve been fascinated with biting my bum as of late.” She tried to turn her head to look at him, but he laid a hand against the base of her spine and bid her to bend over. Her elbows touched the wood.

“Can you blame me? It was so tiny when we first got married but now…” He trailed off. He spread her cheeks and kissed between them. Daenerys’ rosebud quivered when Aegon’s tongue swiped over it. He lingered there for a while, knowing how much she enjoyed the sensation. Her cunt pulsed and when his long fingers finally touched it, a copious amount of wetness was there to aid their glide. In quick succession he had two fingers inside of her, fucking her while he feasted on her rosebud.

“Gods, you are filthy.” Even as the words left her lips her thighs were spreading and she was wiggling her bum to encourage him further.

“For you.” Aegon words were muffled and she could feel the vibrations of his speech against her center. His fingers abandoned her, but before she could protest, he gripped her arse cheeks roughly with both hands and lifted her onto her toes, so he could split her nether lips with his tongue.

She cried out. “Fuck me.” When he showed no signs of answering her demand, she pleaded instead. “Please, I want you inside of me.”

Her face nearly hit the mirror when he filled her. His firm grip on her hips pulled her back. Her knees wanted to bend from the impact of his hips against her bum but Aegon forced her back to arch instead. The slap of his balls against her clit drove her to climax.

Aegon’s pace didn’t slow. Each snap of his hip buried him somewhere deep inside, forcing her body to adjust to his thickness. Pain accompanied his roughness, but it was overwhelmed by the pleasure. Perhaps she had some underlying masochistic tendencies but there was a part of Daenerys that enjoyed nothing more than being used. Her cunt clenched greedily around him, and his pace faltered. Aegon answered with a harsh slap to her buttocks.

“Punish me.” She goaded. Instead, Aegon lifted her. Still impaled on his cock he carried her to their bed. The sheets bunched beneath her fingers and she tried to bury her face into their pillows. Aegon gripped her tresses and fucked her while she was on her hands and knees.

The wine he consumed prior seemed to aid his stamina and Aegon repeatedly took her to the zenith. No matter how frustrating her husband could be, he was both a gifted and demanding lover. Even as she begged him to slow and her hips touched the sheets in a halfhearted attempt to escape him, Aegon followed, dominating her entirely. It was if he had something to prove. His teeth were at her neck, his larger body covered hers and even the smell of his sweat and their sex was pleasing.

“No more.” She pleaded when his fingers dived past her silver curls to find her clit.

“One more.” He demanded. He kissed the column of her throat and then where her neck met her shoulder. “For me.”

Rough fingers swirled over her clit and her knee lifted to let Aegon slide deep. Her climax came against her will. Stubbornly she tried to resist, fearing the pleasure would be too intense and yet it was not to be denied. She cried out, loud enough that she was sure the entire holdfast could hear her. Her eyes clenched, and her toes curled. Aegon followed her over the edge this time. She could feel the swell of his cock. The surge of heat filling her core.

“I love you.” He told her. His hands kneaded her breasts. He peppered kisses against her neck.

She lazed in his arms and lavished under his attention, still full of him. Sleep called to her. “I love you too.” She mumbled. The last thing she remembered was Aegon covering them with their furs.

Daenerys dreamed of her daughter, years older than the little girl she was now, pretending to read a book while watching a blonde boy batter the other squires in the training yard. His mismatched eyes flashed with mischief when he noticed the princess’ attention. A crow cried above, and the dark wings shifted the scene. She saw a grey-eyed man fall to his knees his hands covered in blood. Dark, twisted towers rose behind him and touched a sea of red and purple. His pain turned to rage a moment later. A dark sword swung, each swing bringing a mess of gore.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I understand people are very protective of their ships but the tags for this story are quite clear. Ultimately it is your choice whether to read a fic or not. No one is forcing you. This story will include Jon/Dany. A lot of it but it will take time. So please don't try to accuse me of using the tag incorrectly. 
> 
> Additionally, I will aim to include smut in every chapter while weaving it around the plot. Aegon/Dany won't be the only pairing to get a scene nor will they have the most sex scenes. Jon/Dany, Jon/Val, and Aegon/Arya are the other main pairings. I haven't planned this story out entirely but I do have a pretty good idea of what I want to do with this fic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Jon**

“I told you that you would like it.” Jon teased as he worked the sweet-smelling liquid in Val’s hair. She hummed an agreement.

“My wise husband must continue to enlighten his wildling wife on the luxuries of the south.” Val faced away from him, but he knew she wore that customary smirk of hers.

Their bath was welcome after such a long journey by ship. The iron tub was large enough for them both with a bench that allowed Val to sit between his legs. She had been wary of the sweet-smelling oils, lathers, and soaps that the servants had brought when filling their bath. However, the results spoke for themselves. His fingers worked loose the tiny knots that had gathered in her long tresses. Once he was satisfied her hair was properly untangled, Jon bid her dip her head and wash away the suds. He grabbed a bar of soap and wet a cloth to wash her body, but Val snatched them out of his hands.

“Your turn.” She grinned. The tub was wider than it was deep, the water reaching up to their waists when they stood so Val walked on her knees. The top of her full breasts peaked above the water, her nipples obscured by its opaque surface.

Val turned him, so she could start at his shoulders and then trace down his back. “I don’t think your pretty queen likes me very much.” Jon stiffened at the mention of Daenerys. “I wonder why?” She mused.

He knew the question was loaded but answered anyway “Dany is just…” He struggled for what to say.

“Protective? Territorial? Jealous?” Val breathed the last word into his ear. Despite her inquisition, her voice held no anger. She moved to his front and her pretty grey eyes looked up at him, waiting for an answer.

“Cautious.” Jon ventured. “She does not know what to make of you. Giver her time and you will both grow close.”

Val tilted her head. “She seemed more interested in you than anything else.” She traced his abdomen, her fingers running across the deep lines that separated his muscles before they brushed against the scar that sat just under where his ribcage ended. He flinched. The wound was years old and yet the skin surrounding it was still an ugly red. Tender to the touch. It would likely never fully heal. The surrounding skin was permanently marred by a blade so cold that it burned. “Sorry,” Val whispered.

“I’ve known Dany all my life and we have not seen one another in years. Of course, she is focused on me.” He had noticed that purple gaze. There was a warmth in Dany’s eyes that was surprisingly familiar, despite their lengthy separation. Yet it was also tempered by a certain regality that the girl Jon remembered lacked. Daenerys may have only been the queen for a few months, but she was clearly born for the duty. _A perfect match for my brother._ Something inside him reminded.

She did not look appeased by his answer. “And you missed her greatly, I could see that as plain as day.” Her eyes scanned his face. He saw no reason to lie.

“Aye, I did. She is my family.”

Val’s nose wrinkled. “You have told me about the history of your family. That makes her even more concerning.”

Jon laughed in answer. “You know I did not mean that. Dany was my best friend.” He almost said like a sister but knew that would not help. When Val became pregnant with Ivar, she had spent long lessons with his grand-uncle Aemon and Samwell Tarly, learning to read. One of the first books that Maester Aemon had given her was Maester Gyldayn’s recounting of the reign of Jaehaerys the Conciliator and his Good Queen Alysanne. Val had even read the contrasting takes of Septon Eustace and the dwarf Mushroom on the Dance of Dragons. She was well aware of the torrid intrafamily romances that occurred in his family’s long history.

She shrugged her slim shoulders. “I think that woman has rarely been denied anything or anyone that she has truly wanted.”

“Daenerys is not what you think. I don’t know what you are implying either but in case you have not noticed, Daenerys is my brother’s queen. She may have not been as friendly as Aegon (a surprising thing for him to admit) but trust me you two are too similar not to be friends.” Val’s behavior was surprising. Multiple times he had been offered the hands in marriage (or even the maidenheads) of the daughters of war chiefs and village headsmen who had sword oaths of fealty to him. Val was standing at his side on nearly every occasion and yet most offers drew little more than a smile from her. In public that is. She often took it upon herself to remind him just who he belonged to. There were scratches on his back that served as evidence to her passion. This was the first time that he could recall her being truly troubled.

“I care not if we are friends. So as long as Ivar is treated well then your queen can think of me however she likes.” Val stroked his cheek. “If you want to bring another woman into our bed, you need just ask.” He opened his mouth to protest that was not what he desired but she laid a slim finger on his lips. “But not her.” Her eyes grew hard as the ice that formed the base of the Wall. “From what you have told me of your brother I doubt he will see anything, but an offense should you approach him, and I hope that you are not foolish enough to pursue her behind his back. You can risk your cock.” She gripped his length to accentuate her words. To his shame, he began to harden in her firm grip. “But you will not dishonor me. Nor will you risk the safety of our people or our son.”

To lie to Val that his affection for Dany was not somewhere beyond platonic was foolish. Val and her sister, Dalla, had nursed him back to health from near death. In his delirium, honey-blonde hair became silver-gold and those blue eyes of hers may as well have been lilac. He had called her Dany more than a dozen times before his sense returned to him. Val knew of his childhood affections, knew of how he learned what it truly meant to be a bastard. To know his brother would inherit lands from the sands of Dorne to the very edge of the Wall and more importantly marry the princess they both loved. Seeing Daenerys at the base of the Iron Throne with her silver-haired children brought an ache he had not expected. Yet she looked every inch a woman meant to be a queen, and so did his brother look a king. _Daenerys could have never been mine._ He knew that now. Yet Val was more than a compensation. She was as beautiful and fierce as a dragon princess and she had given him a strong son, for which he was eternally grateful. Tens of thousands or more would have died this winter if it was not for her guiding counsel. He would not repay her loyalty with betrayal. “You need not worry my love.” He pulled her close and claimed her lips. “I am yours and yours alone.”

Val’s expression was almost sad. “Words are wind, Prince Crow, prove it to me.” He gripped her arse cheeks and lifted her from the water. Val’s long legs wrapped around his waist while her hands rested on his shoulder.

Still dripping, Jon carried her not to the canopied bed but the pile of furs that they had laid by the fire. A large snow bear’s skin formed the base of their bedding. Thirteen feet long from tip to tail, it had been one of the five companions of Varamyr Six Skins that Jon had been forced to slay. The other layers were from the skins of wolves, a Shadowcat and a woolly Aurochs. It was as comfortable as any bed in the south.

He laid Val gently down upon the bedding and pulled back to take in the sight of her. Her hair, still wet, soaked the pillow she had propped beneath her head. A shaft of moonlight paled her skin where it touched but the dancing flames and flickering candle lights gave her skin a golden hue. Only the faintest stretch marks marked her flat belly and her breasts were high and full, capped by pale pink nipples. Between her slender legs was a thatch of golden curls. Paler than her head, in this light, they looked almost silver. Somehow that hardened his cock further.  Most tantalizing by far was her face. Val’s eyes were narrowed in a challenge. The smirk on her full lips said, _Prove yourself to me._

Val was the only bedmate he had ever taken. She was both his lover and his teacher. He had learned his lessons eagerly and meant to show her the fruits of her labor.

“Let me worship you.” He told her. Val’s breath hitched when he lifted her leg and kissed her sole. Jon massaged her foot and then licked between her toes. Her grey eyes grew heated when he sucked them. She squirmed under his attention.

His wife was a woman of contradiction. Grown in the wilds of the Far North. As elegant as any highborn lady. He kissed her ankle. Then her calf. She was not particularly tall, but her legs were long and lithe. They spread willingly for his rough, scarred hands. When her cunt came into view, he could not help but take himself in hand. Val knew what the sight of her body did to him. Her legs lifted into a wide V shape. Both of her holes were exposed to him.

Val patted her wet sex and spread her lips with two fingers. “You want to fuck me, Prince Crow, don’t you?” He nodded. She dipped a finger into her sex and it came back glistening. Val offered him the slick digit and he sucked on it greedily. She repeated the action several times, yet the small taste was not enough. He needed to drink directly from the source. Her eyes flashed. “Eat me.” She ordered. Jon complied.

His nose nuzzled her curls. He breathed in deep. The scent of her was enticing. She tasted even better. Val cooed when he found her clit. Her nails scratched his scalp as her hands held his head in place. Leaving was not his intent.

Jon’s lips traced the sides of her nub before dipping lower to drink her juices. His rough hands gripped her thighs and spread them wider. “Look at me.” Jon paused until his wife followed his order. Her eyes were heavy with lust. A dainty hand kneaded a full, milk-white breast while the other played with his hair.

He watched her as much as he could as his tongue danced between her legs. Jabbing the wet digit past her lips drew a whimper. A long lick from the base of her cunt to her clit brought a loud gasp. He flicked his tongue like a snake and smirked as she came undone.

“Use your fingers.” Val’s words were half a demand, half a plea. Jon chose to tease. The petals of her cunt pulsed under his hand. He gathered her wetness. With his fingers slick, he rubbed the space between her sex and rosebud. The crinkled hole puckered. He sucked her clit and slid a finger into her cunt.

Val’s announcement of her pleasure was loud. Before Ivar, the sounds of their lovemaking had garnered him both the respect of the Freefolk (for being able to satisfy such a fine woman) and the ire of the brothers of the Night’s Watch (for being able to bed such a fine woman). There was no need for silence now. Jon added another finger. He delighted in the feel of her channel stretching to accommodate him. He curled his fingers, finding that rough area behind her clit that drove her insane. His tongue never stopped lashing her clit.

She was a strong and fierce warrior princess, dangerous with that bone knife of hers. Even more deadly with a spear. Yet Val was boneless under his tongue. A boneless, blathering, beautiful mess. He relished in her passion and brought her to peak once again.

Her body shook. Toes pointed, a series of “Oohs”, curses and his favorite, “Don’t you dare stop, Prince Crow” formed a mantra that was music to his ears. Jon did not stop. Even when she eventually begged him to.

He slowed his fingers, mindful of her new sensitivity. The frantic licks of his tongue became a gentle caress of her clit. Val’s next peak took longer than both the previous ones combined, yet it came with a gush of juices. His face was soaked from nose to chin. He remained ravenous.

“Fuck me you bastard,” Val growled. She tugged on his locks painfully. He was forced to abandon his feast. His wife kissed him fiercely, tasting herself in the process. Teeth dragged across his bottom lip. The wide tip of his cockhead nudged between the lips of her sex. Val rolled her hips and his head wedged inside.

“Fuck.” Jon groaned at her tightness. Her slick heat, the clench of her cunt, and the feel of her heels pressing against his arse was incredible.

“Gods I love your horse cock.” Val’s vulgar praise filled him with pride. A snap of his hips and he felt his head impact the back of her channel. Her brow furrowed in pain. “Slow, you bastard.” He kissed her in apology.

Val tilted her hips. He hooked a leg over his arm and made love to her with deep but gentle thrusts. His thumb found her clit. Rubbing in time with his strokes, Jon was mesmerized by the sway of Val’s breasts. He wanted to see them heavy with milk again.

“Are you close?” She asked. He nodded. His pace increased. “I want to ride you.”

Jon’s cock throbbed. He dropped forward on his elbows and hooked another leg, fucking Val harder. Jon’s kisses swallowed her cries. “I don’t know if you deserve it.” He whispered into her ear and then worried the lobe between his teeth.

She clawed his back. The sudden pain only heightened his pleasure. Wet slaps and the squelch of her juices echoed in the room. Val submitted to him for several long moments. Reveling in their shared passion. Then with surprising strength and flexibility, Val freed a leg from his grip, pressed it against their furs and flipped them so she was on top, straddling him, cock still encased in her cunt.

Her grey eyes filled with mischief. “I deserve it all.” She told him. Then she lifted and sank down onto his cock, taking him to the root. Almost by instinct, his hands grabbed her hips to steady her.

Val gripped his hands and lifted him above his head. “Hands to yourself, Prince Crow, tonight your body is meant to service me.” Jon gasped as her firm bottom impacted with his hips. Her cunt muscles kneaded his cock as she rode him. Her chest leaned close and the offer of a nipple was too tantalizing to ignore. He sucked on her breasts greedily.

She rode him hard enough that he knew she would be sore in the morning. “This cock is perfect.” Her hips undulated. Her bottom clapped against his hips loudly. “And all fucking mine.” She released his wrists. Her hands found his chest and her nails dug into his skin.

“Fuck, Val.” He could feel the cum rising in his sack. Val bit his ear.

“Fill me. I want you to feel you breed me.” Val rose from her knees to her feet. Squatting over him, she fucked herself on his cock with even greater force. Chancing his wife’s ire, Jon gripped her buttocks, aiding her ride.

_Gods, she is beautiful._ Val flicked her damp hair over one shoulder. Those grey eyes of hers were filled with lust and conquest. Lean muscle flexed in her arms and abdomen. Her breasts rose and fell in an alluring rhythm.

Jon’s body jerked. His cock pulsed. His vision blackened. The rush of pleasure was so intense, so sudden, it was almost as if his soul was threatening to leave his body. He tried to jerk away when his cock became too sensitive, but Val was merciless. Their pubic hair intermingled. She rolled her hips until her peak was reached once again. A heavy flow of his seed escaped her when she pulled off of him.

It took them several minutes to regain their breath. Val laid her head on his chest and regarded the wounds she had delivered. A look of guilt came upon her face. Her fingers traced the red indentations left by her nails. “Too rough?” She asked.

Jon chuckled. He kissed her worry away. “Just perfect.” _My possessive wife._

The warmth of the fire paired with Val’s body heat pulled him to sleep quickly. His familiar dream was a departure from the comfort he enjoyed. It was a memory that would never fade. White shadows barely visible in a growing flurry. White shadows with blue eyes that glowed like starlight. Six and One, from what he could see. Six on dead horses whose flesh sloughed from their bones. One on a monstrous creature with ten eyes and eight massive legs. Made of living ice likes its master.

A boy in black stood opposite of them. Alone. Even his wolf was miles away, stalking a raiding party. Help would come too late. Fear threatened to freeze the boy’s heart. The sudden, bitter cold threatened to freeze his bones. Yet he drew the spell forged blade at his side. Too dumb and defiant to know he was outmatched.

The One dismounted from its spider mount in a flourish. A chorus of sound, like the cracking of ice, laughter the boy realized, from the One’s companions urged it forward.

More graceful than a shadow cat, it prowled forward on feet that made no indentations in the snow. Its armor was camouflaged. A dark reflection of the world around it. The creature pulled a slim blade from its scabbard at its waist.  Slim and beautiful like its wielder. Death given form. Hate given purpose.

Jon woke to the burning cold of his wound. He winced and rolled away from his slumbering wife. His teeth clenched, and he held back a scream. The pain lasted for a minute, yet it felt like ages. A reminder of his fortune. That was a story he had no wish to tell. A story few would believe.

He kissed Val’s cheek and rose to dress. In the far north, he needed to wear hose under his breeches and at least three layers under his cloak. Winter in King’s Landing warranted woolen pants, well-insulated boots, and a long-sleeved tunic. By habit, Dark Sister was added to his sword belt. A fine dagger that had been a gift from his uncle Benjen joined the sword.

It was a strange experience walking the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast. The hour was late (or early depending upon one’s perspective) and the halls were dark and empty. Still, they carried a strange familiarity. Guided only by the dim light of a candle, Jon moved on silent feet through halls he had walked as a boy.

King’s Landing had never been a true home to him. Not like Dragonstone. There he had grown up with his siblings and Daenerys. An outbreak of sickness in the winter following the rebellion had prompted the king to send his children to their family’s ancestral isle. Queen Elia was on Dragonstone more often than not but the only woman who had truly been a mother to him was his grandmother. Only once she had passed did Jon learn how much she had shielded him from the resentment leftover from the war.

A guard lounged at the door of the nursery. Jon blow out his candle and approached the man unseen. He slid free the dagger at his belt and held it against the throat of the man he had caught unaware. The guard quivered in fear. “Pay more attention or I will report you the king and I guarantee my brother will not be pleased on learning that the man tasked with guarding his children was found half-asleep. I could have killed you and you would never know that you were dead.”

“I am sorry m’lord.” The guard stammered.

Jon stared at him coldly. “Do not be sorry, be better.” He passed through the threshold before the guard could reply.

The children were not completely unprotected. Red eyes glowed from the blackness of a corner of the room. _Ghost._ Ivar was not in the bed that Daenerys had ordered added to the nursery. Nor was little Aemon present in his own. Instead, the two boys had congregated to Adara’s bed. The sight of the three young children sharing a single pillow drew a smile to his face. He stroked his son’s hair. Ivar had been conceived early in him and Val’s relationship. A surprise but a welcome one. Five and a half years old but his son possessed the confidence of a child much older.

There was a book that lay between the children. Adara loosely clutched the book. Moon and starlight spilled in through the window and the title of the book was just visible to his sharp eyes. _The Jade Compendium._ His eyes widened. _A rather advanced book for a five-year-old to read._

It reminded him of his sister. Rhaenys was always too wild and inquisitive by half. She had long dreamed of the wonders that the wider world held, and it was no surprise that she was no galivanting in Essos. Jon did hope she would return soon. If only to meet her nephew that had heard so many stories about her.

Ivar stirred. “Father?” He asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Go back to sleep, son.” Jon said gently.

Ivar yawned and laid his head back on the pillow, forehead brushing against Adara’s. “I like it here father.” He said before falling back to sleep.

Jon made to leave the room once he was sure his son was dreaming. He looked to Ghost to see if the wolf would want to walk the castle grounds with him. The direwolf held his vigil. Val had joked that she had permanently stolen Ghost when he shadowed her during her pregnancy but now the wolf rarely left Ivar’s side.

He left the holdfast and made his way to the drawbridge. The Kingsguard at the post stirred on his approach. “You remain as vigilant as ever Ser,” Jon told the knight.

Ser Daemon Sand grinned. “Lord.” He said first. “Bastard.” They said simultaneously. Jon clasped Daemon’s arm in his. “You are up early. I thought your pretty wife would have worn you out.”

Jon laughed. “Call it a habit I picked up from the rangers. Waking in the middle of the night is a good way to ensure you won’t freeze or wake with a raider trying to put an axe in your belly.”

Daemon nodded. “The city is already abuzz with news about you. Bringing wildlings and giants this far south.”

Jon grinned. “They will have to get used to them. There will be half a dozen clans coming south to settle. At least a hundred giants or more and more and more Freefolk than that.”

“Sounds like things can either be really interesting or a recipe for trouble.”  Daemon mused.

Jon made a sound of agreement. He was well aware of the impending cultural clash that came with bringing so many wildlings south. A greater challenge had been convincing Lord Stark and the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch of allowing thousands through the wall. His uncle had only agreed with the combined testimony of his brother Benjen. Lord Commander Stannis Baratheon had only allowed the Freefolk through the wall after several of the chiefs who would settle in the gift consented to give the Night’s Watch hostages to ensure their good behavior. “Trouble is always interesting but I will keep them in line.”

He conversed with Daemon for nearly an hour. The knight had been inducted into the Kingsguard only months before Jon left for the North and had been one of the few that Jon could legitimately call a friend. Surprising as Ser Daemon had squired for Prince Oberyn Martell, and the Master of Whisperers never hid his disdain for Jon.

It was still hours before sunrise when Daemon lowered the drawbridge for him and even longer until the meeting between him, Val, Aegon and Daenerys, and the chiefs that had come with them south. Logistics of their journey north still needed to be discussed but Jon knew that it would be weeks before they could make their departure. The royal fleet needed to be gathered and provisioned, their ship route planned to detail as the Narrow Sea was the most turbulent during winter. Jon knew that White Harbor was a guaranteed stop and he knew that Lord Manderly would not miss the opportunity to feast the king.

He hoped the rations and supplies sent to Hardhome and Eastwatch by the Sea would last until their arrival. Most of all he hoped those wraiths…those _Others_ would not make an appearance again. Against all odds, Jon had emerged victorious against his foe. He knew it was Dark Sister he owed his victory to instead of his own skill. He had stood over the pile of ice that remained of his foe and cursed its companions, threatening them with words that he was not sure they could understand and hoped that his confidence was enough to banish them back to their Lands of Always Winter.

Yet Jon did not want to leave the fate of tens of thousands to hope and chance. The Freefolk had already suffered greatly due to the winter winds and their failed war to break the wall. Stannis Baratheon had executed the first King-Beyond-the-Wall, Mance Rayder, as a traitor. While neither of Mance’s successors had been as successful at uniting the wildlings under one host as their predecessor, they were all far crueler. The Weeper had been the worst of them and he and his lieutenants had killed scores of rangers. Those who fell or were captured by the Weeper would have their eyes carved out. Never was there a kill that Jon delighted in more.

“Is this what you meant by my destiny, father?” Jon asked no one. He stood on the northern face of the curtain wall, overlooking the Blackwater. The countless stars and the half-moon were his only companions. Along with the memories of a man he would never see again.

_The king placed a hand on his shoulder. “Daenerys has her own duty. Together she and Aegon can repair this realm that I nearly tore apart. It may not seem it now but you know her decision is best. Your destiny has a different path.”_

_Destiny._ He had hated that word. Aegon was destined to be king. Destined for greatness. Destined for Daenerys and she destined for him. Not a bastard. Yet somehow his father was proven correct. His uncles and Stannis would have broken the Freefolk time and time again. Peace would not have been considered. Perhaps the Others would have taken advantage of the strife. How many would have died if the princess had wanted the bastard?

Jon flexed his sword hand. The thoughts of the life he was denied came to him unbidden. He hated himself for that line of thinking. Still, he knew there was a piece of him that would always love Daenerys but he would bury it deep and try his best to forget.

 

**Author's Note:**

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